A Demon An Angel And A Baby

The envelope was a bit smaller than most; you know, the ones that they send greeting cards in. It was addressed to me, and I recognized the return address, so I went ahead and opened it. When I saw the card inside, a big grin broke out on my face. Then I opened the card...

I'm Jay Kerry. Pretty much just an average guy, although I do have a somewhat better than average life. I'm a deputy sheriff with the Hamilton County Sheriff's Office. The county is a nice place to live, and the SO is a great place to work.

The City of Hamilton is the County Seat. It's not a big city, but it sits on Hamilton Bay, named for the guy who discovered it back when dinosaurs still ruled the Earth, so it's a tourist trap. A few museums and clubs, some theaters leaning toward country music, and the Bay. That draws them in droves; deep-sea fishing outside the Bay, scuba diving near the reef, sailing, water-skiing, you name it. We have a Double-A baseball team affiliated with the Baltimore Orioles and Pittsburgh Pirates. Hamilton State University plays basketball and Division II football. They went to a bowl game last year. Got beat, but at least they got invited.

Most of the tourists are good people, although we get the usual assortment of rowdies and habitual drunks. The Coast Guard handles the Bay, and they only rarely ask for assistance. Problem is, during the warm weather months, Hamilton swells to big-city population numbers, and that means big-city crime. Gambling, drugs, prostitution, they all turn up. For the most part, we turn a blind eye to it, unless it spills over and bothers the 'good' folks. Then we come in.

The County has both a Police Department and a Sheriff's Office. The PD handles most of the patrol work. We handle the jail, serving warrants, drug enforcement, traffic enforcement and most of the miscellaneous details that pop up. The PD needs help occasionally, and we're not the least bit afraid to provide it. The two departments work well together.

Every six months or so, the County holds a big dance for its employees. Civilians, PD, SO, the Fire Department and our three Ambulance Services all take part. The folks who don't want to attend usually volunteer to replace the people on duty who do want to go. Works out pretty well.

One of those dances stood my life on its head. I'm not a Casanova type, but I've never had trouble getting dates if I wanted one. Women seem to like me, and I've always shown them respect, which helps a lot. I was at the dance, mixing with the rest of the crew. A few dances, a few drinks, a lot of just talking and watching. I noticed a cute little woman sitting on the side wall, talking to several others. I watched her for a bit and noticed that she wasn't dancing. Being the 'gentleman' that I always tried to be, I went over and asked her if she'd like to dance. She looked at me, smiled, and offered her hand.

I heard the comment behind me; "Oh, God, the demon has another one." I should have listened. At any rate, the DJ had just started a slow ballad, what they call a 'clutch and grab special', so I got to hold her. She didn't seem to mind. I sure as hell didn't.

I don't know why I did it, but about half-way through the dance, I kissed her forehead. She pulled back a touch, made eye contact, then reached up and kissed me on the lips. I thought I'd been struck by lightning. This time, I pulled back.

She was shorter than my 5'11", probably about 5'6" or so. She was in good shape, so I figured she was with one of the Emergency Services Divisions. She had short-cropped black hair, which reinforced my suspicions. Then I saw her eyes.

Oh, God, I thought I was going to drown in them. They were gorgeous. Maybe they were purple, maybe they were violet, but who cares? They were incredible. The look in them was almost hypnotic. It was as though she was daring me to kiss her again.

If I'd had half a brain, I'd have run right then. But I've never been the brightest bulb in the box, so I leaned in to taste those lips again. Six months later, we were married.

Her name was Alexandra. Most of her friends called her Sandy, but I called her Alex. She called me anything she wanted to. She was two years older than me, twenty-seven to my twenty-five, and she was a doll. Her figure wasn't petite, but it was close. I guess she was about a 33C. Never really asked. Her breasts were perfectly proportionate to her body. She had slender hips and what looked like a small ass but, if she walked past you, you knew it was there. And it wasn't long before I knew why they called her the demon.

She was also with the SO and she outranked me. She was a Sergeant. She was one of the three snipers on the SWAT team. I was a Corporal, assigned to the TIDE Squad (Traffic Investigation, Details and Enforcement). TIDE units were one-man cars, but we got a lot of patrol work. If one of the two-man units wanted back-up, dispatch would send one of us instead of tying up another two-man squad.

I mentioned earlier that Hamilton SO was a great outfit to work for. Our marriage was a good example. Most agencies would have made one of us resign, probably Alex, since she was senior. It was an underhanded way of saving a few bucks. Other agencies would have made one of us transfer into a non-enforcement division; radio, admin, public relations, something like that.

But HSO didn't care. They called us in and congratulated us, telling us that there was one restriction that we would have to abide by; we couldn't work the same shift together. Special Events and Special Details were okay, but not regular enforcement. That was okay by us. Besides, the brass liked us because we always volunteered for the Special Olympics details and things like that.

HSO was also very lenient on their weapons policy. On duty, we all carried the Beretta 92C. I'm not a big fan of the 9mm, but that was a damn fine handgun. Off-duty, or for a back-up weapon, you could carry most anything that you could qualify with. There were a few restrictions: you couldn't carry anything smaller than.22 magnum; you couldn't carry a.25 or a.32 (underpowered pieces of crap), you couldn't carry that beast of a.41 magnum that Smith & Wesson made, and you couldn't carry a.44 magnum or a Desert Eagle. Other than that, if you could shoot it and you liked it, you were good to go.

Alex carried a small 9mm until I got her a Thunder.380 as a Christmas gift. At first, she was dubious about the slightly smaller caliber. When I took her to the range and made her shoot it, though, she fell in love with it.

I carried a revolver, a small frame, 4" barrel, 5-round piece of handheld artillery.

I'd first fired the.44 special when I was a kid. Every year, my family met at my uncle's farm for a big family reunion. Usually on the third morning, the men would take the boys out to the back forty and shoot a variety of guns. My father pulled a really dirty trick on me with a shotgun, but we're not gonna talk about that here.

Then again, maybe we are. They were shooting at targets on trees with 12-gauge pumps and a couple double-barrels. I think I was about 11 or 12 at the time. Dad handed me a shotgun and said, "Go ahead, if you want to."

I put the thing to my shoulder and decided I didn't like it. "Dad," I admitted, "this is too big for me. Do you have something smaller?"

"Sure," he said, "try this. This is a 10-gauge."

Didn't seem any smaller to me, but he was my dad. He wouldn't lie to me, would he?

When I stopped bouncing, my ears stopped ringing and they stopped laughing, he helped me get up. "Sorry, son, but I wanted to make a point. Don't play with guns. They can hurt you, a lot worse than this. When you're really ready, I'll teach you. You're old enough to start using a.22 caliber rifle. Would you like to try that?"

So, dad taught me to shoot a.22. About two years later, he said I was ready to start with handguns. He owned a Charter Arms Bulldog, the small-frame.44 special I was talking about. He told me it was a big gun, but I should be able to handle it. It kicked like a mule but after he showed me again the correct way to hold it and brace myself, it wasn't bad. It was actually accurate, even for me.

At one point, Charter Arms had a terrible reputation for quality. It eventually drove them out of business. Another ownership group bought them out, revamped the entire system and started over. It took them years to live down their reputation but, slowly, people started to realize that they were making some good handguns. The Bulldog was one of them. They made a nice little.38 special, too, but nobody was talking me out of my Smith Model 10.

So, when I bought my first gun, it was a Bulldog (the Model 10 was a gift from my dad). The shift commander looked at me like I was crazy when I told him I wanted to carry it as my backup. "What on Earth do you want that damned cannon for?"

I explained to him why I liked it and that it was a lot more accurate than people thought. He asked if I had qualified with it, and I assured him that I had and that the range had the paperwork. He was a bit concerned about the caliber and asked me to tell him about the ballistics.

When most people think about.44s, the only thing that comes to mind is Dirty Harry and the.44 magnum. That is not an urban officer's gun. It has far too much penetrating power. There's a very real danger of the bullet going through your target and killing someone in their living room three blocks down the street.

The.44 special is almost the exact opposite. It's the same bullet, a big heavy brute of a thing. But the powder charge is a lot lower. The muzzle velocity is low. It's a slow bullet with almost no penetrating power. All its force is expended on impact, which means it's like shooting somebody with a brick. Besides, I loaded my Bulldog with hollow points, which shatter on impact.

The Captain just shook his head. "Damn, that's something else. Okay with me, Kerry. Go ahead and carry it."

Alex's and my salaries allowed us to live in a nice apartment in a very close suburb of Hamilton. Neither of us could have afforded the place on our own but, together, we could live there and not have to worry about any other expenses, either. It wasn't a luxury apartment, but it had some very nice amenities. The kitchen had a built-in microwave and a built-in dishwasher. The bathroom was huge and had a walk-in shower and a hot tub. We loved them both.

I had just come home after working a very long graveyard shift. The patrol was bad enough, but the paperwork kept me at the precinct for almost two more hours. When I finally crawled in the front door, Alex greeted me.

"You want some breakfast, baby?"

I just shook my head. "Not today, kitten. I'm not hungry. I'm gonna crawl into the shower for an hour and then hit the sack."

That's what I thought. I did crawl into the shower, but I was only in there about ten minutes when the door suddenly opened, and Alex stepped in. "What the Hell?" I questioned.

"Maybe you're not hungry," she chuckled, "but I am." She smiled at me, and those eyes started to dance. There she was again; the demon had just struck.

She soaped up a scrunchie and started working on my back and shoulders. I gotta admit, it felt damned good. She knew how to massage locked muscles, and my neck really needed it. I noticed, however, that once she reached my waist, her attention seemed to switch to more sensitive parts of my anatomy.

She came around to my front, soaping my throat, my shoulders again, and my chest. She dropped to my legs, skipping everything from my navel to my knees. She used the detachable shower head to rinse me thoroughly. When she put it back on the neck, I was wondering what she was up to. Then she looked at me.

I could have sworn those beautiful purple eyes had turned red. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought that grin was hiding fangs. Didn't have long to think about it, though. She kissed me once, then dropped to her knees.

What she hadn't soaped with the scrunchie, she now proceeded to very slowly clean with her tongue, all the time gently stroking my cock with her hand. I was erect before she started, and I was squirming in less than a minute. Suddenly, I wasn't tired any more.

She licked up the inside of my thigh, again moving her hand back to stroke me. At this point, I didn't care what she did. I was so turned on that I didn't know what I was doing.

She knew the night was catching up with me, so she decided to be merciful. Without any more teasing, her lips slid over the head and down the length of my cock. She knew how to use her tongue and her lips, and her teeth were making me even more sensitive. I felt that marvelous throat sliding around my cock and closed my eyes.

When she slid back off of me, I reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back to her feet. "So, this is how you want to play?" I hissed. She just smiled at me, so I spun her around and pushed her against the shower wall.

My hands slid down and grabbed her ass cheeks. She gasped when she felt me pull them apart, and she gasped even harder when my cock pushed into her ass. She didn't object, though, so I kept going.

I took it slow, pushing into her inch by inch. She moaned with each short stroke. Then she started pushing back against me.

"Go ahead, you bastard!" she breathed.

When Alex started using obscenities, she was really getting into it. I started using long, slow strokes, driving my entire length into her every time. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not hung like Trigger. Like I said earlier, I'm pretty much an average guy. Never seemed to bother her, though.

By now, I was really feeling it. She was tight as hell, and her squeezing made it even worse. On top of that, her low moans were driving me up the wall. I started picking up my pace.

She reached around behind me, grabbing my hips with her hands, and started pulling me into her hard. That was my signal to cut loose. I started slamming into her with everything I had. She was groaning loudly now. No screams, just a series of "Ooohhs and Aaahs."

Finally, she yelled, "Damn you, Jay!" and she clamped down hard. Her orgasm was all I could take, and I exploded inside her.

We stayed locked together for several minutes. I took advantage of it and massaged her breasts and nipples while she just leaned against me and purred. Finally, my cock shrank to normal and eased out of her.

I had to lean against the shower wall to stay upright. Slowly, she turned in my arms, reaching up to give me a passionate kiss.

"Mmmm, baby," she purred, "that was quite an appetizer."

I looked at her in disbelief. "You can't be serious. Appetizer?"

She looked almost shocked, until I realized she was toying with me. "You don't think that was enough for me, do you?"

My eyes closed as I exhaled. "Oh, God," I groaned, "I'm not going to get any sleep today, am I?"

"Poor baby," she pouted with mock concern, "how many times have I told you? Never say God to a demon." She started to laugh, a thoroughly evil laugh.

This was going to be a long day.

Early that fall, a new couple moved into the apartment above us. They would become our closest friends. Mike was in the Army, stationed at Fort Hancock, about 15 miles northwest of Hamilton. His wife, Cindy, was some kind of medical technician, also working at the Fort. They were a bit younger than us.

Mike was a 1st Lieutenant, in some kind of specialty unit that he couldn't talk about. They went on alert what seemed like every month. When that happened, he couldn't leave the Fort. Cindy usually came down and ate with us, then watched a movie with whichever of us was home.

We met the day they moved in. The moving people were there most of the day. By the time they left, it was early evening. We went up and introduced ourselves, inviting them to join us for a pizza. Turned out that Cindy was as big a pizza hound as I was, so they accepted the invitation.

There was a great little pizza place about two blocks from the Apartments, D'Angelo's Pizza. It was a mom-and-pop operation and they served up some terrific Sicilian pizza. Pops had a son in the Navy and a daughter working for HPD, so he offered discounts for the military and emergency services. We first went there the week we moved in and quickly became regulars.

Mike and Cindy loved the place. We had a blast. When we went back home, we invited them to join us the next evening to watch a movie. We wouldn't have that chance again for quite some time. It was unusual for Alex and I to be off-duty at the same time.

My main contribution to our apartment was in entertainment. I owned an 85-inch LCD TV and had a collection of DVDs nearing five thousand. Most were DVDs, but there were a lot of Blu-Rays in there. My DVD deck was a high-end region-free set-up, connected to a Bose soundbar that could blow the walls down if you let it.

Turned out that Mike and Cindy loved classic horror and sci-fi, which were my favorites. My collection was loaded with both. Alex wasn't much of a sci-fi fan, but she loved horror, especially demonic stuff. Imagine that.

So, movie night became a regular thing if Alex and I were off together. We'd order a couple of pizzas from D'Angelo's and party all night. We all loved it.

Alex said that I was the world's biggest and safest flirt. Damned right I was safe. You think I'm gonna cheat on a demon? Mike laughed that Cindy was a professional tease. It wasn't long before the two of us were going at it like a cat and dog, while our spouses laughed their asses off.

I really liked Cindy. She wasn't as pretty as Alex, but she was cute, with shoulder-length light brown hair and light green eyes. She was slightly stockier, and I'd guess she had a 34-something bust. She had an ass that could kill, and a smile that left guys drooling, me included. I used to tease her about the pink lipstick she wore. I said it was too pale for those luscious lips. She snapped back that red was too garish, and she liked pink. She said it matched my baby pink cheeks. Didn't specify which cheeks, though. When I suggested that she try blue or purple, Alex and Mike erupted into laughter. I won that night.

She was a vicious tease, and I can't remember too many nights that didn't end with her at least one-up on me. Alex chided me mercilessly about it.

They were trying to start a family but not having much luck. The fertility clinic they went to told them that Mike had a very low sperm count. He wasn't sterile and they could have a baby together, they just had to keep trying.

I was working evening shift when I got a notification to call home immediately. I headed into the nearest precinct and called Alex. She told me to meet her at Bayview Receiving, Hamilton's big trauma center. Cindy was in the hospital.

I called my supervisor and got permission to head for Bayview. Alex was waiting, and we headed for the Emergency Room. Mike was with Cindy and they both looked devastated.

They didn't even look at us when we said 'hi', so we looked for a doctor or nurse. Luckily, we found the charge nurse almost immediately. We both stood stunned when she told us that Cindy had just had a miscarriage. We hadn't even known she was pregnant. From what the nurse told us, neither had she.

It took a couple of months, but eventually Cindy got back to her cheerful, nutty self. It made me feel very good.

We were waiting for them on a movie night when they knocked and walked in. From their expressions, it didn't look like we were going to be watching anything that night. Mike had a concerned look on his face and Cindy looked frightened.

Mike told us that Cindy was being stalked. She had started getting suggestive and then threatening e-mails at work, and then obscene, threatening phone calls. They had changed her number, but the calls continued. They had come to us because the stalker apparently now knew her address.